


Of Misfortunes and Miscommunications

by within_a_dream



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Canon Era, M/M, Sex swap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-10
Updated: 2015-04-10
Packaged: 2018-03-22 03:39:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3713521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/within_a_dream/pseuds/within_a_dream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Courfeyrac makes the mistake of leaving Marius in the care of Grantaire, Joly, and Bossuet for a night, and disaster ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Misfortunes and Miscommunications

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the genderswap space on my genfic bingo card (which I was convinced read "sex swap" until I checked halfway through the fic, whoops!) Marius deals with some dysphoria during the course of this fic, and also struggles with his 19th-century attitudes towards gender and sexuality (it's mostly a fun fic, though!)
> 
> Many thanks to Summer for betaing!

When Courfeyrac told Marius he would be out for the weekend in nearly the same breath as the news that he had these wonderful friends he'd been meaning to introduce to Marius for ages, and coincidentally, they'd invited him to spend the next few days in their apartment, Marius couldn't help but feel the two were connected. Courfeyrac had insisted that he held no grudge about the incident that had occurred the last time he'd left Marius unattended- the damage was minor, and the smell of herring had faded in only a week. But Marius had thought that Courfeyrac's breezy assurances hid a deeper disappointment, and here was his proof. Apparently, Marius could no longer be trusted alone in the apartment.

At least the friends he’d been foisted upon seemed good-natured enough. Joly, Bossuet, and Grantaire, Courfeyrac had said. Although every time Marius tried to speak to them, he found himself frozen with awkwardness. Did they even want him with them, or were they only going along with it as a favor to Courfeyrac? After a few attempts to drag Marius into the conversation, they seemed content enough to talk amongst themselves, which seemed to confirm their disinterest in him.

As the night went on, Marius began to think he’d been overly hasty in his judgment. They took him to interesting places and treated him to many drinks, and by the end of the night Marius found it so easy to talk to them that his awkwardness when they’d first met barely seemed real.

“I hope it hasn’t been too much trouble minding me.”

“Oh, no, that’s not what—” Joly began, at nearly the same time as Grantaire said, “Don’t worry, Pontmercy, Courfeyrac’s promised us a hefty payment for our services.”

Marius laughed, hoping that was the correct response.

Judging by Grantaire’s grin, it was. “Another drink?”

“I think I’ve had enough.”

“Never turn down a free drink,” Bossuet said. Marius shrugged and accepted another glass.

When he’d finished his first sip, Bossuet cleared his throat, and said, “I hope you don’t mind me asking, but I’ve been dying to know—how on Earth did you manage to procure so many fish?”

Marius had thought that he was drunk enough to avoid feeling shame entirely, but the mention of the mistake that had led him here in the first place made his face burn. However, Bossuet’s expression was reassuring, more curious than accusatory, so Marius launched into the tale.

“We were running short on food, and I’d just been paid for a translation job. I thought I’d buy enough for dinner, and surprise him. Except the first store I came across was selling salted herring, and the saleswoman was very persuasive. I honestly had no idea how many fish 5 francs would buy, and she just kept handing me bag after bag...I didn’t want it to go to waste, and I thought perhaps Courfeyrac would have a better idea of what to do them.”

Marius found himself dwelling on Courfeyrac’s distress when he’d walked back into the apartment that night. “I understand it must be shocking to come home to a sight like that, but I really was only trying to help, and I do so hate to upset him…”

“He seemed more amused than anything when he told us about it.” But Joly’s statement was a little too hesitant to be comforting.

“Don’t worry, Courfeyrac is completely incapable of holding a grudge. I took two of his mistresses to bed with me last year, and he’d forgotten it within a week. Next to that, a room full of fish is nothing.”

Grantaire didn’t seem to be the sort of man who’d want to be thanked for comforting Marius, but Marius thanked him anyway. “I just…he’s my closest friend. I love him. Like a brother. I’ve never had a brother, but I assume this is what it’s like. I want him to be happy, I want to stay with him…”

“A brother. Indeed.” Grantaire snickered, and Joly elbowed him.

“Don’t tease him.”

“No, it’s fine.” Marius had the uneasy impression that something was being said here that was flying right over his head, but after a few more glasses, that feeling went away. The events of the night began to blur together as well, but that was no matter. They drifted from one establishment to the next, and by the end of the night (or perhaps the early hours of the morning, judging by the light peeking over the horizon), Marius found himself laying down to sleep on a pile of pillows on the floor of Joly’s rooms, someone’s waistcoat pulled up over him as a quilt.

The first thing Marius noticed when he awoke was that he felt wrong. Off-balance, he determined upon further reflection--although reflection was proving difficult given the throbbing in his head. His shirt was snug around his chest, and his trousers were tight in the wrong places, and unusually loose in others. Looking down, the reason for the tightness became apparent--a (rather large) set of breasts had somehow attached themselves to him overnight. Tracing his hands down the curve of his waist, the swell of his hips, and a rather disturbing empty space between his legs, it became clear that other anatomical changes had occurred as well.

Maybe if he went back to sleep, things would resolve themselves before he woke up again. Yes, that seemed like the wisest course of action. Just as he’d laid back down, Grantaire’s voice echoed across the room. “Were those there yesterday?”

Well, there went the possibility of convincing himself that he was hallucinating. Marius sat up, tugging his makeshift blanket around him, and let out a despairing, “No!”

Of course, the others had to be woken up, and their puzzled examinations did nothing to assuage Marius’s fears. Moreover, after they’d determined that something had indeed gone terribly wrong, they didn’t even have any suggestions as to how to put things right again. Bossuet kept squinting at Marius, and then looking to Joly or Grantaire and asking if they were absolutely certain they’d all sobered up. Joly insisted that he be allowed to perform a medical examination ( _Think of the discoveries he could make!_ he said, which made Marius uncomfortable in ways he couldn’t quite put a name to). After Joly had babbled for near fifteen minutes about the medical marvel that was currently sitting on his bedroom floor, Grantaire cut him off by saying, “It must have been something he drank last night.”

Marius latched onto the suggestion. “It must be. Do you suppose that drinking it again would reverse the changes?”

Grantaire shrugged. “We may as well try.”

“You can’t go outside like that.” Bossuet frowned, and Marius looked down once again at his shirt, which was quite strained at the seams by his newly-acquired breasts. Oh, Lord, he really couldn’t, Marius realized. “Joly, don’t you have a dress lying around?”

Joly ran for his room, returning with a wrinkled green dress and a few white undergarments, which he threw to Marius. Marius stared down at the pile of clothes in his hands, then back up at the others. “I’ve never worn a dress before.”

“I can help you,” Joly said, gesturing for Marius to undress.

“The rest of you need to turn around.”

Grantaire laughed, but he obeyed, as did Bossuet. It took a ridiculously long time for Marius to dress, during which he gained a new sense of sympathy for women. The dress was a bit snug in the chest, but other than that it fit well, at least in Marius’s estimation. However, Grantaire’s chuckle when he turned around made him question that.

“Exactly whose dress _is_ that? It’s far too small around the waist to be Musichetta’s, and besides that, she’d never wear such a hideous shade of green. Joly, have you found a new mistress and neglected to tell me?”

“I, er…I suppose you could say that.”

“Having seen it on the woman in question,” Bossuet added, “I think it’s a lovely green in context. It brings out her eyes.”

Joly blushed, and finished cinching up the ties on Marius’s dress. “Where were we planning to try first?”

“I thought we’d try the Green Lion; it won’t open for a few hours yet, but the last time I drank there I was sick as a dog the next day,” Grantaire said, ignoring Bossuet’s query as to whether that illness had been caused by the quality of the wares, or simply the quantity Grantaire had consumed them in.

Drinking at the Green Lion, which Marius barely even recognized from the night before, gained them nothing but a few dirty looks.

“Why are they all so angry with us?” he whispered.

“This isn’t exactly the sort of place one is supposed to bring a young woman,” Joly said. “And you’re looking rather disheveled; it’s possible they’ve assumed you’re a prostitute.”

“My God.” Marius looked around at the tavern’s other patrons with a newfound horror.

“Well, I think you’ve tried everything they have available,” Grantaire said, grabbing Marius’s arm and ushering him outside.

Bossuet took his other arm. “Don’t let their opinions get to you. Just think, tomorrow they won’t even recognize you!”

“Yes, but that doesn’t help me now,” Marius whined.

“With any luck, you won’t have to worry about it much longer.” Grantaire came to a stop outside another tavern. “We drank here, I think.”

As soon as they stepped inside, a man began to wave at them. “Joly! Bossuet! Grantaire! And you’ve brought a beautiful friend, I see.”

“Prouvaire! Yes, this is Courfeyrac’s friend, Marius Pontmercy. I believe you’ve heard of him?”

The man (Prouvaire, Marius supposed) directed a confused look at Bossuet. “He looks rather different than I’d expected.”

“Yes, he had a bit of an accident.” Grantaire patted Marius’s shoulder. “We think it’s something he drank.”

Prouvaire cocked his head. “Are you sure you haven’t angered any fairies recently? I’ve heard they can be quite vicious in their retaliation.”

“We’ll keep it in mind. In any case, it can’t hurt to drink some more.” Grantaire led Marius to the bar, murmuring, “Don’t pay him any mind. Knowing our Jehan, he’s had quite a bit more than wine tonight.”

“But…Courfeyrac,” Marius said, stricken. “I’d forgotten about him. He’ll be so angry, that he sent me away to keep me out of trouble and I’ve only managed to drag myself into more.”

“He won’t hold it against you,” Grantaire said.

“If anything, he’ll hold it against _us_ ,” Bossuet added. “After all, we’re the ones who took you out.”

Marius choked down the drink Grantaire handed him (which was a vivid green, nearly the same shade as his dress), and to his embarrassment, began to cry. “All I do is inconvenience him! He’s been so good to me, and I think I love him—”

Well. He hadn’t meant to say that, although now that he thought about it, the feelings Marius bore for Courfeyrac were beginning to feel suspiciously like love—romantic love, the kind of love a man bears for a woman. It must have been the change. Something had gone wrong in his heart, making him confuse friendship for love. Surely it would fade once he’d been fixed.

“Lord, Marius,” Grantaire grumbled. “Have another drink?”

Nothing at that tavern helped, nor at the next. By dawn, they’d visited every one of the establishments they’d drunk in the last night, and Marius remained unchanged.

“Don’t worry,” Joly said. “We’ll take you home, and you can get some sleep.”

“We’re giving up?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t call it that.” He took Marius’s arm. “What good will it do to run yourself ragged when you can go to bed and take on the problem with a full night’s sleep behind you?”

“I suppose so…”

They walked him home, and after a few worried queries as to whether he’d be all right, left him on the doorstep. Marius knocked on the door, preparing himself to face Courfeyrac’s wrath.

“I’m sorry, mademoiselle, I believe you have the wrong—Marius?”

He nodded, ducking inside so he could at least keep some modicum of dignity and hide his sobbing from the neighbors. “There was an accident, and somehow I’ve ended up stuck like this, and oh, this isn’t even my _dress_ , I’ll have to return it to Joly, and if I’m to be a woman now I have no idea how I’ll live—”

“Marius, come sit down.” Courfeyrac took his place at one end of the sofa, Marius sat down next to him, and Courfeyrac began to stroke a thumb over his shoulder. It felt wrong, not to tell Courfeyrac about Marius’s quite possibly not-so-platonic feelings for him when he was displaying such fraternal affection, but Marius decided it could wait. (For one thing, he was sobbing so hard he couldn’t speak.) “We’ll work things out, all right? Joly is a doctor, Combeferre’s a doctor, they have connections in the hospitals. We’ll ask around, and we’ll get you set right.”

“And what will I do in the meantime?”

“We’ll work things out,” Courfeyrac repeated. “There are ways to make the world see you as a man. I have a friend or two I can introduce you to, to help until we can set things right. And we _will_ set things right, Marius. Something caused this, which must mean there’s a way to reverse it.”

“You’re wonderful,” Marius said as he sobbed into Courfeyrac’s shoulder. “I don’t deserve to have you as a friend, all I ever do is inconvenience you—” He hadn’t even thought his words would be understandable through his crying, but judging from Courfeyrac’s response, they were.

“That isn’t true.” He pulled Marius closer, running a hand through his hair. “You’ve been an absolutely wonderful friend.”

“You don’t understand,” Marius whispered. It was lying, to sit here and let Courfeyrac touch him without telling his friend just how much he was enjoying this. But describing his feelings seemed an insurmountable challenge right now, his mind fuzzy from how much he’d drunk and panicked over the disaster his life had become.

“Marius, we can talk in the morning, all right? But trust me, you’re not a horrible friend.”

“I am,” Marius whispered. Courfeyrac leaned closer, and Marius was all too conscious of the brush of skin against skin, and he bent in to lay a kiss on Courfeyrac’s lips.

Courfeyrac kissed back. That had to mean something, didn’t it? He kissed back, and his hand curved possessively around Marius’s neck, and the noises he made sounded content. But when he pulled away, his expression was panicked.

“God, Courfeyrac, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

He laid a hand on Marius’s leg. “It’s fine. I swear, it’s fine, but I think we should wait to discuss that until tomorrow. Right now, you’ve had far too much to drink and you’re incredibly anxious—for good reason, I might add, but anxious nonetheless. You take the bed, I’ll take the floor, and we’ll talk tomorrow.”

It somehow took longer to get out of the dress than it had to get into it, and Marius ended up laying down to sleep in a mess of half-tied petticoats, too weary to remove them. Courfeyrac gallantly ignored Marius’s small sobs as he fell asleep.

He woke up feeling strangely normal, although it took him a while to realize the reason—the petticoats no longer even partially fit, and by all appearances, his body had been set right.

Courfeyrac was still sleeping on the mattress in the other room, and it would be a shame to wake him. He looked so peaceful when he was sleeping, and something about him stirred up something in Marius— _oh_.

“Oh, no,” he whispered.

When Courfeyrac woke up, Marius was still sitting on his bed crying.

“What’s wrong? It looks like you’ve improved?”

“I have,” Marius mumbled.

“Then what’s the matter?”

He looked up at Courfeyrac, certain his words were about to bring the world crashing down. “I still love you.”

“Oh, Marius.” Courfeyrac sat down next to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. “It _is_ possible for men to love men, you know. I’ve been in love with you since you turned up on my doorstep, that first night.”

It took a moment to process what Courfeyrac had said. “You have? Truly?”

“Would I lie to you?”

Later, Marius would regret that their first confessions of love happened like this, with his face swollen from crying and the rest of him tangled up in someone else’s petticoats. Right then, the only thing he could focus on was how close Courfeyrac was to him, and how much he’d like to kiss him again. He did, and once again Courfeyrac kissed back, but this time when they pulled apart they were both smiling.

“You should get dressed,” Courfeyrac murmured. “Or at least take those off.”

“I will if you will.” Marius blushed as he said it, but Courfeyrac laughed and began to strip off his nightshirt.

“If you insist.”

At that moment, Marius thought he might be the luckiest man in the world.


End file.
